


When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)

by RiotFalling



Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020 [11]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pining, and there is only one BED, bed sharing, non-graphic injury, seriously dont look for plot here, this is all crack, tiny safe house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotFalling/pseuds/RiotFalling
Summary: There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.And one tiny little bed.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738375
Comments: 95
Kudos: 591
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, StarkBucksBingo2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I am weak to suggestion, and also bed-sharing fic, here’s this.

“I take it back,” Tony calls out the open doorway, “this safe house is _not_ well stocked, they forgot one very important thing.”

Bucky appears in the doorway a second later, looks around the small bedroom, and then fixes Tony with an unimpressed look. 

“There’s only one bed,” Tony says slowly, in case Bucky somehow missed it, but Bucky just shrugs. And of course it’s not a problem for _him_ , he’s not the one uselessly pining away like a character in an old timey romance novel.

“So you take it,” Bucky says, “I hardly sleep anyways.” Then he turns to leave, like that’s just the end of the conversation.

“That is _not_ the end of this conversation!” Tony says, following him back out into the equally tiny living room.

-

Turns out, that _is_ the end of the conversation. For about three days.

For three nights, Tony tosses and turns on the lumpy single mattress, feeling ridiculously guilty even though it had been _Bucky’s_ idea to sleep on the tiny moldy couch. He also has to keep listing out all the reasons in his head that he _shouldn’t_ invite Bucky to come share the bed with him, laws of physics be damned.

Like the fact that it took long enough for Bucky to be comfortable around them all anyways, especially around _Tony,_ and the last thing Tony wants to do is screw that up. Especially because he would almost, tentatively, say that he and Bucky are _friends_ now, and it’s not like _Bucky_ wants more than that, why _would_ he? It’s _Tony._

Tony doesn’t sleep very well, is the point.

-

On the fourth night, Tony puts his foot down. “Your turn with the bed,”’ he says after their nightly meal of tasteless canned meat, “little piece of advice, it _does_ slope to the right, so be careful not to roll off.”

“No,” Bucky says eloquently.

“Yes,” Tony shoots back, then twists sideways on the couch and starts kicking Bucky in the hip as he says “go on, get out of my new bed, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

Bucky moves not at all except to grab one of Tony’s ankles. “I told you, I don’t need-“

“This is purely selfish,” Tony interrupts him with a bright grin, “that bed is _terrible,_ okay, every inch of me hurts and I’m hoping this couch is better. Have fun with the torture bed.”

Bucky gives him a suspicious look, but slowly rises from the couch and heads for the bedroom. He doesn’t shut the door behind him, and Tony listens with satisfaction as the old bed frame creaks under Bucky’s weight.

The couch smells _terrible._ Tony is kind of tempted to hold his breath until he passes out, because for a while that seems like the only way he’s getting to sleep. But he feels way less guilty, and it's _way_ less tempting to go crawl into the bed with Bucky. That would just be rude.

Eventually, Tony manages to get past the smell and the lumps and the way the one tiny window rattles in the lightest of breezes, and actually falls asleep. He wakes up in the bed, blankets neatly tucked in around him.

“Are you kidding me, you stubborn bastard?!” Tony demands as he storms into the living room.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, smiling innocently at him over a can of peaches.

“This isn’t over,” Tony tells him, very seriously, and then, “I was _saving_ those peaches!”

-

On the fifth night, Tony comes out of the bathroom to find Bucky pretending to already be asleep on the couch.

“Bucky,” Tony says, standing over him, hands on his hips, and then continues saying it until Bucky finally squints an eye open at him. “Bucky,” Tony says, as reasonably as he can, “go get in the fucking bed.”

“I slept in the bed last night,” Bucky says and oh, Tony can _absolutely_ see the smirk trying to break free from behind Bucky’s flat expression.

“You most certainly did _not,”_ Tony says and he can’t help a small huff of laughter, because he has to respect the dedication.

“Agree to disagree,” Bucky says, shrugging one shoulder, and then closes his eyes again.

“I do not agree to that,” Tony says, “and I _will_ stand here all night to make a point, don’t think I won’t.”

Bucky peeks his eyes open again, and Tony raises one eyebrow at him. 

Falling asleep on the couch is at least easier the second time, but halfway through the night Tony wakes up in bed again.

“Damnit Bucky!” He shouts, struggling and failing to break free of the blankets tucked tightly around him.

“I’m sleeping!” Bucky shouts back, and Tony is pretty sure he can hear a smothered laugh. It’s unfair, really, that the sound of it has Tony’s heart beating just a little faster.

“The hell you are,” Tony grumbles, and falls back asleep before he can work up the energy to free himself and go kick Bucky off the couch again.

-

On the seventh morning, Tony wakes up to Bucky looming above him.

“What th’ fuck, Tony,” he demands, sounding something almost like plaintive.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Tony says brightly, feeling incredibly smug despite the way his entire body _aches_ from sleeping on the ground.

”Mornin’, angel,” Bucky says flatly, “why aren’t you in th’ damn bed?”

“You can keep putting me in the bed, but you can’t _make_ me sleep in it,” Tony says sagely, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

“I can tie you t’ the bed,” Bucky growls, and Tony is incredibly thankful he managed to pull the blankets down with him because _hello._

Tony can’t help the way he immediately responds by smirking wide and wiggling his eyebrows, he really can’t. It’s just instinct.

Bucky rolls his eyes and stomps out of the room.

“I’m counting this as a win,” Tony calls after him.

“I’m eatin’ your powdered eggs,” Bucky calls back. Like _that’s_ any kind of a threat.

-

So it continues like that, they have nothing to do during the day except hurry up and wait, and there’s only so many times Bucky can clean his guns and sharpen his knives, only so many times Tony can tear apart the toaster and put it back together. At least fighting over the bed gives them something to _do._

Tony would even dare to say that Bucky is enjoying the game, too. Especially on the eighth night, when Tony wakes up just as he’s being gently lowered to the mattress, decides to aggressively throw himself out of the bed, and nearly brains himself on the nightstand. Bucky laughs so hard he nearly collapses and Tony seizes the moment of opportunity, almost crawls all the way out of the room before Bucky grabs him by the foot and drags him back.

On the ninth night, when Tony tries to roll out of bed, he gets tangled in the sheets and ends up pinned awkwardly to the side of the mattress and has to yell for Bucky to come free him. Bucky stumbles in looking sleepy and smug, so gorgeous that Tony _almost_ does something incredibly stupid. Like _tell him that._

No matter where Tony falls asleep, on the couch, on the scratchy rug in front of the empty fireplace, on the kitchen table just to make a point, he always wakes up in bed. He doesn’t even _stir_ when Bucky moves him, most of the time, and that’s as endearing as it is terrifying.

After the tenth night stuck in the tiny safe house, things start to get weird.

-

“Bucky,” Tony calls pitifully, and waits a full minute before continuing with “frosty, sweetheart, light of my life, oh kind and generous angel, would you _please get in here already.”_

Bucky _finally_ appears in the doorway and Tony _knows_ he took so long on purpose, this house _isn’t that big._ “What’s up, sugar?” Bucky asks and he’s trying to hide his smirk behind his coffee mug but Tony can absolutely see it in his eyes.

“Not much, just one little thing really,” Tony says pleasantly, and then flails his entire body as hard as he can. It accomplishes not a goddamn thing, because the blankets on the bed are all tucked in so tightly that Tony might as well be in a straight jacket.

Bucky chokes on his mouthful of coffee, clearly trying not to laugh, and good, Tony hopes it went up his nose. Bucky doesn’t actually move to help him though, just stays leaning against the doorframe and grinning.

“Bucky,” Tony says again, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

“Darlin’,” Bucky says back, smiling sweetly. When Tony continues to stare him down, he takes a slow, obnoxious sip of his coffee before asking “what’s up?”

Tony attempts to flail again, then demands “would you just get over here, what the _fuck,_ did you _staple_ these sheets in place?!”

“Had to make sure you didn’t go anywhere,” Bucky says, completely unapologetic, but finally moves to free him.

“You’re a bad, bad man,” Tony tells him, already plotting how he’s going to steal the mug of coffee Bucky left on the nightstand.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

-

Tony wakes up slung over Bucky’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Disappointing,” Tony tells the small of Bucky’s back, “I always imagined you carried me like a delicate princess.”

“Not when it’s the _third time_ tonight,” Bucky grumbles, voice low and sleep rough in a way that _does things_ to Tony, “would you just stay in th’ fuckin’ bed.”

 _“You_ sleep in the bed,” Tony replies, “and leave me in peace.”

“You can’t sleep in th’ bathtub,” Bucky says heartlessly and drops him onto the bed, surprisingly gentle.

“I argue that I _was_ sleeping in the bathtub just fine,” Tony points out. 

Bucky yanks the pillow out from under his head and shoves it in his face.

-

“Are you serious right now?” Bucky asks, leaning heavily against the doorframe, his hair in his face and his eyes still mostly closed.

Tony freezes in the act of building a Tony-shaped lump of pillows under the blankets. “No?” He tries.

Bucky glares at him until Tony shamefully _un-_ builds the Tony-shaped lump and crawls back under the blankets himself.

-

On the fourteenth night, Tony has a new plan. It’s not a _good_ plan, but it is _new,_ and considering how stir crazy he is that’s about the best Tony can do.

He’s pretty sure Bucky is already awake when he stumbles into the living room, so Tony just heads straight for the couch and throws himself down on top of Bucky. It’s super awkward, because Bucky is curled up on his side to fit on the tiny couch, and Tony definitely ends up with a metal elbow somewhere around his spleen.

“What th’ fuck, doll,” Bucky slurs out, and maybe he hadn’t been _quite_ as awake as Tony had thought.

“I want the couch,” Tony says, “I don’t care where you sleep. Although I _should_ point out that the bed _is_ empty, so you might as well use it.”

 _“What the fuck,”_ Bucky says again. He tries to shift, probably because Tony’s knees have to be digging into his legs, and it would probably send Tony tumbling to the ground if not for Bucky’s other arm snapping up to wrap around him.

“Give in and surrender the couch,” Tony says, like Bucky isn’t the only thing keeping him from face planting into the ground.

“Why are you like this?” Bucky asks with a heavy sigh, and in one smooth move manages to push himself to his feet while simultaneously slinging Tony up into a bridal carry. He smirks when Tony makes a couple nonsense noises and asks “happy now, princess?’

 _“Thrilled,”_ Tony says with as much sarcasm as he can manage, but it still comes out entirely too honest as Bucky starts carrying him back towards the bedroom.

“Why won’t you jus’ stay in th’ damn bed,” Bucky asks and oh, apparently he actually wants an answer to that.

Tony ran out of reasonable excuses about two days ago, so he blurts out “I feel guilty hogging it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but there’s a warm smile hovering around the corners of his mouth as he says “told you I don’t want it.”

 _“Oh,_ well if you _told_ me,” Tony says with an eye-roll of his own, because really, it’s like Bucky doesn’t know him at all. Bucky does huff out a soft laugh, so maybe he _does,_ but still, Tony has a point to prove. As soon as Bucky sets him down oh-so-gently on the bed, Tony leaps into action and tries to throw himself over Bucky’s shoulder towards the door.

“Damnit Tony,” Bucky snaps, but he’s shaking with suppressed laughter as he catches Tony around the waist and tries to toss him back down onto the bed. “Shit,” he swears again as Tony gets his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and _clings_ for all he’s worth, “sweet thing, would you just- fuck, _Tony-“_

At some point in the ensuing scuffle, in which Bucky tries very hard to set him down and Tony tries very hard to _not_ let that happen, Tony’s heel collides with the back of Bucky’s knee. It knocks Bucky just enough off balance that they _both_ go tumbling down onto the bed and the frame groans dangerously.

It also knocks all the air out of Tony’s lungs when Bucky lands heavily on top of him, and after a second Tony manages to wheeze out “tell my bots... they failed me.”

“Tha’s fucked up,” Bucky says with another soft laugh. Then he wiggles one arm under Tony, says “hold on,” and proceeds to somehow roll them both over _without_ rolling straight off the bed. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Bucky says, dropping his head back and even managing to land on the pillow, “you’re makin’ this _so difficult.”_

“I _am_ proud of myself,” Tony says, face smashed against Bucky’s chest and eyes already falling closed, “‘cause that’s what I _do.”_ Honestly, Bucky is about as lumpy as the mattress, in terms of laying-on, but in much better ways. And he’s _so warm,_ and his arm still draped around Tony’s waist feels _so nice,_ there’s not a damn thing Tony can do to stop himself from drifting off.

“Are... are you falling asleep on me?” Bucky asks, and there’s something in his voice that Tony can’t quite place. Maybe he can figure it out later, when he’s awake.

“No,” Tony says, and then passes the fuck out.

-

On the fifteenth night, Tony falls asleep on the couch and wakes up sprawled out on top of Bucky on the tiny bed, both of Bucky’s arms wrapped tight around his back.

“‘S this your dastardly plan to keep me in bed?” Tony asks, not bothering to lift his face from where it’s tucked so nicely into the curve of Bucky’s throat.

“Worked last night,” Bucky says, voice more of a low rumble than anything, and tightens his hold just a little.

“You fiend,” Tony says, and falls back asleep.

-

On the sixteenth morning, Tony wakes up still sprawled out on top of Bucky, drooling on him a little, Bucky’s fingers running through his hair. They don’t fight over the couch, after that.

-

It’s another three goddamn days before someone finally comes to pick them up, and they share the very last can of peaches to celebrate.

“Am I gonna have to worry ‘bout finding you sleepin’ on the kitchen table still?” Bucky asks with a small grin that still manages to light up his whole face.

Tony takes his table to think about his answer, sucks the last of the sugary, corn-syrupy fruit juice off his fork. Takes stock of the way Bucky watches him do it. Considers. Runs the odds. Decides to take his chances.

“I think you’ve learned there’s really only one way to be sure,” Tony says, raising one eyebrow and even letting a nervous little smile show on his face.

Bucky’s grin widens slowly, and then it’s a full on smile, nearly splitting his face and Tony can’t _take it_ anymore. When Tony kisses him Bucky tastes sugary sweet and he still won’t stop smiling, even as he pulls Tony in closer.

Tony really doesn’t mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Now with chapter 2, because no bed sharing fic is truly complete until they’re home.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it) (Chapter 2)  
> Collaborator Name: Riot  
> StarkBucks Bingo Square Filled: G1, “You’re going to have to convince me”  
> Bucky Barnes Bingo Square Filled: C3, Free Space  
> Ship/Main Pairing: Bucky/Tony  
> Rating: Teen  
> Major Tags & Triggers: non-graphic injury and violence  
> Summary: There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch. And one tiny little bed. (Now with chapter 2, because no bed sharing fic is truly complete until they’re home.)  
> Word Count: 2.5k

They’re still making out when Steve bursts in the door.

“Well, shit,” Steve says with a surprising amount of feeling, freezing just inside the doorway of the tiny cabin.

“Okay, but what part of this do you find _most_ upsetting?" Tony asks, amusement in his voice, and while Bucky is usually a big fan of listening to Tony give Steve shit he'd really rather get back to the kissing.

At least Tony is still in his lap, and Bucky can occupy himself with biting little marks along Tony’s jaw. Partially to try and get Tony's attention back on _him,_ and partially just because he _can,_ because he can't get enough of the way Tony shivers against him.

Steve sighs, shoulders dropping, and says "The part where I owe Nat forty bucks."

"I also find that part upsetting," Tony says conversationally, still running his fingers through Bucky's hair and making no moves to get up. It might be the fact that Bucky isn't letting go of him, just holding him tighter and muffling his laugh against Tony's skin, but Bucky is pretty sure that's not the only reason.

"Please de-tangle so we can go the hell home," Steve says heavily, shooting Bucky a baleful look.

Bucky growls, tightens his arms and Tony's waist a little more and returns Steve's look with a flat glare. He doesn't know what Steve is getting all pissy about anyways, he should be thrilled he doesn't have to put up with Bucky's _'obnoxious pining'_ anymore. Hopefully. They can sort it out when they get home.

Tony laughs, sound rumbling in his throat and Bucky can feel it in his _teeth_ where they're still pressed to Tony's jaw.

-

Tony stays plastered to his side as they walk to the quinjet, Steve grumbling the entire way while Tony teases him. Bucky keeps his arm and Tony's shoulders, doesn't want to let go. And Tony doesn't pull away.

When they step onto the jet Natasha spins in one of the pilot's seats to face them, disturbingly wide smile in place. "I told you the safe house would be too much to resist," she says smugly as Steve slaps a couple bills into her hand with a deep, hilarious pout on his face.

“That makes zero sense," Tony says primly and seats himself in Bucky's lap without a second of hesitation, lounging back against Bucky's chest and sprawling his legs out so Steve has to step over them on his way to his own seat. "That safehouse is the _least_ romantic thing on the planet. I'm pretty sure I have previously undiscovered mold spores growing in my nose, okay, if anything the safe house _hurt."_

"Uh huh, sure," Natasha says with an audible eye roll, spinning back towards the console and starting up the engines. Bucky hides his smile in the curve of Tony's shoulder, loops his arms and Tony's waist and pulls him in close.

Tony smells like dust, like the cheap soap they’ve been using to wash their skin and hair and clothes, like the overly sweet syrup of canned peaches and under it all like warmth and engine grease and _Tony._ It pools warm in Bucky’s chest, escapes in a happy sigh that he doesn’t even try to fight down.

Tony leans back a little heavier against him, tips his head back to rest on Bucky’s shoulder and turns just enough for Bucky to see the corner of his wide smile. "I can't wait to get back to my own bed," Tony says, quietly enough that only Bucky can hear him, like it's just the two of them again, back in that tiny room where the rest of the world doesn't exist. Bucky's breath starts to catch in his chest, because what does _that_ mean, but Tony turns his head a little more and presses a kiss to the corner of Bucky's jaw as he adds "seriously, my bed is the _best,_ it's going to blow your mind. I almost forgot what it's like to _not_ wake up with everything aching."

The warmth in Bucky’s chest spreads through his whole body, catching in his throat, and _fuck_ he hopes Tony means that. He just needs to find the words to _ask._ He's also considering quietly suggesting something they can do that hopefully _will_ have Tony waking up sore, but before he can work up the nerve to do either an explosion rocks the quinjet and knocks them out of the air.

-

Bucky wakes up half-pinned under about a half-ton of rubble, which is one of his absolute _least_ favorite ways to wake up. The upside is that he can hear the familiar clang of Steve’s shield bouncing off of someone’s face, the crackle of Natasha’s widow’s bites, and the quick flash of red and gold moving across the sky means the extra suit Tony keeps on the jet was able to catch him.

Steve’s head pops up over a large piece of what apparently used to be a half-built parking structure, and then his face goes pale. “Oh, _shit,”_ Steve says and Bucky can just barely hear someone shouting ‘language’ in the background. “Just, stay there, Bucky- We’ll get medical, just don’t move.”

“Okay,” Bucky says agreeably. As soon as Steve looks away he heaves himself to his feet, ignoring the pull and tear in his side, the hot wet feeling of what must be blood running down his side. Bucky isn’t going to let that slow him down.

The fight is anticlimactic. They clearly weren’t supposed to survive the crash, and the five man wanna-be hit squad _clearly_ weren’t expecting an actual fight. But Bucky can’t even feel good about punching one of their faces in, because he just wants to be _home_ already, wants to wrap himself around Tony again. Wants to find out if that’s actually something he can keep.

Once Tony repulsors the last of the assholes into a crumbling bit of cement wall for Natasha to cuff and sedate like the rest, Bucky allows himself to finally acknowledge that he’s feeling a little light headed, blood soaking thick into his shirt and the leg of his pants. Maybe he should just sit down for a second, just until his vision clears.

“So the good news,” Tony says as he lands next to where Bucky has taken a seat on the rubble scattered ground and flips up the faceplate of the mask, “Is that we have definitely, officially taken out the last of the bastards hunting us for revenge and/or sport."

“It was revenge,” Steve chimes in helpfully, dragging one of the unconscious goons with him as he walks over to give Bucky an unimpressed, but unsurprised, look. “They were pissed you two accidentally dismantled their human trafficking ring last month.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky says because sure, why wouldn’t that come back to bite them.

“The bad news... you currently have several pieces of rebar sticking out of you,” Tony says, putting his hands on his hips and Bucky wonders if he can get away with openly appreciating the gorgeous lines armor now. Maybe when Tony’s face isn’t doing that concerned-glaring thing.

“I had noticed that, yeah,” Bucky says, and considers laying down but he doesn’t know what that’ll do to the aforementioned rebar stuck through him. He’s pretty sure there’s one coming out the back of his flesh shoulder and he probably shouldn’t disturb that. Any more than he already has.

“Even worse,” Tony continues and his glare is getting stronger but his voice remains pleasant, “You have several large holes from where you _ripped some of the rebar out,_ because you _wouldn’t stop moving.”_

“Why are you yellin’ at me, I’m injured,” Bucky grumbles and decides fuck it, he’s going to lay down. If he just flops over sideways it shouldn’t bother the metal bar jabbed into his shoulder. Or the one in his stomach. Or his thigh, damn, maybe he should have stayed put after all.

“I’m glad you’re both so calm about this,” Steve says, and he does actually look kind of glad behind the way he’s gone vaguely green. It makes sense, when the alternative is panicking.

“Medivac is on the way,” Natasha says, popping up over a pile of rubble and eyeing the spreading pool of blood beneath him.

“Awesome,” Bucky says and blinks a couple times to try and get the world to stop spinning, “I’m gonna take a short nap.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Tony says and the color drains from his face a little despite the way he’s trying to continue looking unruffled. Bucky can see it though, he can see through the cracks.

“Jus’ a little nap,” Bucky assures him, and passes the fuck out.

-

He wakes up in medical and Tony is there, his feet up on the end of Bucky’s bed and his face twisted in worry even in his sleep. Bucky’s heart lurches in his chest and the monitor beside the bed gives an embarrassingly loud series of beeps, but Tony doesn’t twitch. 

The lights are all down low, and maybe if Bucky is lucky he’ll have a couple hours before people come to start poking at him. He reaches out for Tony, but everything is fuzzy and he passes back out without being sure he actually manages it.

-

When he wakes up again he’s being prodded by nurses, and Tony is gone.

He spends a total of nine days in medical, and even then Bucky is pretty sure they only release him because the second his stitches are out he starts deathglaring at everyone who steps foot into the room.

He’s only seen Tony in passing, really, when the team came to visit in doctor-approved small groups. Tony brought him the book he was in the middle of reading, his favorite blanket, even smuggled in a couple sprinkle donuts, all the things Bucky complained about missing while they were stuck in that tiny, moldy cabin. 

It’s sweet, and thoughtful, has Bucky’s breath catching in his throat but all he really wants is _Tony._ This hospital bed is probably bigger than the one they’ve been sleeping in but it feels _too damn big_ without Tony and his cold toes and surprisingly sharp elbows. But Bucky can’t find the words and Tony is always gone too soon.

-

By the time they finally release him Bucky still hasn’t figured out what the hell he’s supposed to say, so he heads for his own room. He wants his own bed, and he wants to see Tony, but the _‘own bed’_ thing seems easier right now. It’s late anyways, and yeah, maybe he’s a little worried that the spell has broken. He can put off bad news for one more night.

Bucky walks into his suite, lets the door fall closed heavily behind him, and then freezes.

Tony is laying on his kitchen table.

They both just stare at each other for a second, and Bucky is inordinately pleased there’s no heart monitor to give away how his chest goes tight.

“Hey,” Tony says, voice uncharacteristic quiet, fingers tapping against his stomach.

“Have you been sleepin’ on my table this whole time?” Bucky blurts before he can stop himself, before he can even consider all the other things he should probably be saying and hasn’t been able to think of the words for yet.

“Maybe,” Tony says with a lopsided grin and a little wiggle of his eyebrows. If they hadn’t just spent half a month cooped up together, Bucky would probably miss the tension in the corners of Tony’s eyes, wouldn’t recognize it as Tony being _nervous._ “What are you going to do if I have?” 

Bucky nods, like any of this makes a lick of sense. Hell, nothing in his life has made sense in the last 80 years, holding onto a good thing when it miraculously falls into his lap is probably the only thing that _does_ make sense.

Tony watches silently as Bucky approaches the table, clearly waiting for an answer to his challenge. Bucky’s not great with words though, these days, and if he keeps trying to find the right ones he’s going to _ruin this._

So Bucky doesn’t give himself time to overthink, just scoops Tony easily into his arms and heads for the bedroom while Tony laughs and clings, so careful of the fresh scars on Bucky’s chest even as he flails and nearly gets himself dropped.

“This is what you get for sleepin’ weird places, you know that,” Bucky says and hitches Tony up a little higher, doesn’t give a damn about the way his shoulder pulls slightly. He’s not going far.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Tony says around another laugh and at least stops wiggling, instead wrapping his arms around Bucky’s head and pressing a smacking kiss to his temple. “A fair punishment I suppose,” Tony decides and helpfully kicks the bedroom door open, “Maybe we can have a decent breakfast in the morning this time though.”

“Ah, more powdered eggs,” Bucky says with a knowing nod and grins widely when Tony lets out a squawk of protest.

“Put me down, I’m out of here,” Tony says and his mouth is screwed up in disgust but his eyes are shining with amusement. “I changed my mind about all of this.”

“No you didn’t,” Bucky says smugly, because he _knows_ it’s true. He can feel the way Tony’s heart is racing in time with his own, can see it on the wide smile that breaks out across Tony’s face.

“I’m going to go sleep on my own table,” Tony says with a sniff, arms still wrapped around him tightly.

“No you’re not,” Bucky says and tumbles them both down into his bed. That aches too, a little, but it’s totally worth it for the way Tony laughs again, wraps himself around Bucky and doesn’t let go. "You're gonna stay," Bucky says, confident, chest full and his own smile nearly painful.

Tony makes some indecisive noises, kind of ruined by the way he's still snickering, and finally says "I don’t know, I think you're going to have to convince me."

“Uh huh,” Bucky says, smirking, and hauls him into a kiss. When they finally pull away Tony’s eyes are half lidded and his smile is lazy, cheeks flushed and Bucky is absolutely going to carry him to bed _every night_ if this is what he gets.

“Good convincing,” Tony sighs out and then wiggles over until he’s half sprawled across Bucky’s chest again, despite the fact that the bed is huge and has to be more comfortable. Bucky doesn’t complain, even when Tony’s cold toes press against his ankles, just wraps his arms around him tighter and presses his smile to the top of Tony’s head. “Now hush, some of us have been up worrying about your dumbass,” Tony says, patting at his chest.

“Sorry sugar,” Bucky says but he’s smiling as he presses his fingers into Tony’s hair and gives a little tug.

“You better be,” Tony mutters, tucking his face into Bucky’s throat and clearly half-asleep already. “We should have waffles when we wake up.”

“Anythin’ you want, sweet thing,” Bucky promise even though he’s pretty sure Tony is already out. He still means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Layora88! I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
